


No Victory in Defeat

by PiratePlume



Category: The Night Shift (TV 2014)
Genre: Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiratePlume/pseuds/PiratePlume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>TC still thinks about Jordan, a lot.  There's a funny thing about the human mind, the way it can trick itself into believing in a beautiful lie even when it knows it's a lie all along...</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Victory in Defeat

“I can’t keep doing this, Tee,” she sounded exhausted.

 _What do you mean?_ He wanted to ask, but his mouth wouldn’t move and his throat felt as if it was clamped shut. His heartbeat quickened, pounding like a war drum, the blood rushing in his ears. The fog drifted away and she came into focus. Beautiful, just as she had always been and just as she always was. He ached from fear, from desperation, from love. _Don’t do this, Jordan._

If he couldn’t speak to tell her to stop, he could move. Pushing his body upright, the world spun. A glass bottle was lying empty on the floor where it had fallen from his hand. His body ached with fresh bruises. Aches and pains, a foggy mind, and the aftermath of drinking until darkness took him all felt familiar. Familiarity should have been a comfort but reality was staring at him with heartbreak that was quickly causing his own. Every line of sorrow was shining in her hazel eyes like needles that dug into his skin and burrowed into his heart. A sharp pain lanced through his head when the sunlight, infiltrating through the cracks in the blinds over the windows, stabbed at his eyes. TC winced back away from it, wearily lifting his hand to protect himself from its harmful glare.

“I love you, Tee,” not exhausted; TC had listened to her when she was exhausted plenty of times. When the days had been better there had been times he’d grabbed her and pulled her into his arms after she’d had a hard shift. He would just hold her, a perfect fit in his arms, while she unwound. That was exhausted, this was something else. “But I can’t help you anymore, I’ve been trying.” She leaned back, shaking her head and blinking to keep the shine of tears from falling down her cheeks. “God, have I been trying. I can’t do this anymore, Tee.” Her voice cracked, the tears fell. It hit him like a strike to the heart. Defeated. She was defeated, she was leaving him, and it was his fault. 

Tears stung hot in his eyes. “Jordan,” he finally managed to croak, to mumble, but she was already pushing up to her feet and walking away…

Taking a staggering breath, TC was ripped away from the room he’d been in moments before. Confusion caused him to blink rapidly, trying to bring everything into. He licked his dry lips, cleared his throat and sat up among the tangle of sheets. “Fuck,” he muttered quietly to the empty room.

It had been a dream, or a memory. It was one he didn’t want to remember like most of the memories that crawled up from the hell where he’d left them to burn. Yet like some sick, cruel joke, it lingered. There were so many things he wanted in order to drive it away. He wanted to get on his bike and ride too hard, too fast, without any destination in mind. He wanted to grab a bottle of whatever hard liquor he had on hand and slam it back until the world went black. He wanted to swing by one of the local joints and pick a fight with the biggest, ugliest guys there.

But if he got on his bike, he’d find his way to Jordan’s house. If he got drunk, he wouldn’t make his shift and he’d have to answer to Jordan. If he got in a fight that got serious enough, he might wind up becoming one of Jordan’s patients for the evening. Every avenue led to her and it always had.

Forcing himself from the bed (where he had to untangle himself from the wrinkled, sweaty sheets), TC wandered to the restroom and flipped on the water to the shower, watching as it sputtered and then began to splash against the floor of the tub. He moved to stand under it, head bent forward, letting it pelt against his head, brown hair sticking to his face. For a moment he only breathed, listened to the water raining down, and felt it run rivers across his bare skin. Everything rushed back at him from the day they met, the day he’d finally worked up the courage to ask her on a date, the plans he’d made to propose to her once he’d come back from his tour, and how he’d been unable to help himself from driving her away.

Anger at himself coursed hot through his veins. With a yell that was more primal than human, a flash of red flared behind his eyes and he struck out, smashing his knuckles into the wall. Pain raced up his hand and the water turned a soft pink as the little bit of blood was washed away. He held it awkwardly for a moment, watching the little ribbons of water run down his fingers, and felt the thrumming of the pain before it became a discomforting soreness.

Maybe things were different now, he mentally lied to himself. Even knowing it wasn’t true, even knowing he was barely grasping the threads which bound himself together, the hope that it could be different made him want to hold tightly to that lie. Believing that things were different, weighing how much better he was now, meant he could dream that maybe he hadn’t fucked everything up quite so badly. Maybe he and Jordan had another chance, another life. He didn’t get into as many fights as he used to. He didn’t drink as much as he had when he got back. The seizing flashbacks had lessened somewhat and he was getting better at burying them…

Now that Jordan was working on the night shift and they were seeing each other every workday, TC could see it in her eyes. He could feel it when he was near her. She still cared for him and he still cared about her. No amount of any coping mechanisms could take that from him, take what he felt for her away from him. If he could just talk to her and get her to see how badly he needed her, how much he had improved…maybe…

Leaning back from the water, TC took a breath and felt like a new man. Washing up took only a few minutes when excitement was rushing him. He didn’t bother to rummage for clothes after he’d cut off the stream, either. Using a towel to roughly dry his hair he looped it around his hips and went diving through piles of dirty clothes to find his cellphone. “Aha!” He was almost laughing as his fingers finally fished it from a pocket, a wide smile cracking over his lightly bearded face, flashing his teeth.

He scrolled quickly to her name, hit the button to call her, and held it to his ear. He felt like a teenager again, like a little boy about to talk to his crush for the first time. After all these years, Jordan could still make him feel that way.

_Ring…ring…ring…_

“Doctor Jordan Alexander’s phone, she’s currently not available so if you could –”

“Scott! Give me my phone!”

She was laughing, and breathless. She was _happy_. TC was frozen, smile gone, feeling as if he’d been plunged into a bucket of ice water.

“Alright, alright,” his voice was fading, this man who didn’t know Jordan like TC did and who never would. This man who couldn’t love her as much as TC did and never would.

“TC?” She was confused, she must have looked at the phone before she’d put it against her ear. The light of her joy was gone now, replaced by worry. Why would he call her out of nowhere, after all? TC still couldn’t find his voice. “TC? Are you there?”

“Uh, yeah! Yeah!” He shook his head, laughed. “I – uh – I must have dialed the wrong number.” Forced another laugh. “Meant to call Toph.”

“TC, are you sure? Are you – ” She could always read through him. Even when she wasn’t standing in the same room as him, looking at him, she could read through him.

“Yep! All good here. See you tonight.” _Click._ A heavy breath left him, deflated, his eyes transfixed at the wall but seeing nothing. Stupid. How could he be _so_ stupid?


End file.
